White Jade

Chapter Four

Earlier that same day, Colonel Wu Chen was sitting in a secluded red leather booth at the Happy Family restaurant in San Francisco.

Muted sounds drifted up from the street below. The only other customer was an old man across the room reading his newspaper. The smell of rice, pork and noodles mingled with the murmured conversation of waiters huddled in a corner. Wu sipped his tea. He took a bright red carnation from the vase on the table and twirled it in his hands. He thought about his conversation with the General.

"Tell me about this book."

Yang's wet voice had echoed through the satellite link.

"The American obtained it in Bhutan. The book concerns the First Emperor. It is a medical text with a formula for a draught of immortality. That is why I contacted you."

The General was always interested in anything to do with the First Emperor and his quest for immortality. Wu needed to keep General Yang happy.

"What is the name of this book?"

"The American said it translates as 'The Golden Garuda'."

Wu heard a sharp intake of breath. When Yang spoke again, his voice was controlled. Wu sensed his excitement.

"I have an assignment for you."

"Sir."

"I require the book. Obtain it and deliver it to me." There was a pause. Wu waited. "The American is rich?"

"Yes, sir. He has great wealth."

"Access his financial accounts. Transfer the funds to the account numbers I send after this conversation."

"Yes, sir. Are there any restrictions?"

"Use any means necessary. Make sure there are no complications after."

"Yes, sir."

"Inform me when you have succeeded."

Wu toyed with the flower and sipped his tea. The book hadn't been in Connor's home. The niece must know where it was. His agents would bring her to him for questioning.

Wu thought about interrogating her. He felt the beginning of an erection. He would strip her naked and bind her. That always unnerved prisoners, especially the women. Choy could question her, but sometimes his sergeant got carried away and damaged the subject beyond repair before Wu learned what he needed. No, he'd do it himself.

The water technique was effective, but time consuming if the subject was stubborn. Wu preferred the blowtorch and pliers. Or knives, the kind you'd find in any kitchen. Simple tools were always best.

He reached for his tea and glanced down. The shredded petals of the flower made a delicate pattern against the scarred table top. He brushed them aside with his hand. They fell to the floor in a shower of red, like drops of blood.

Tinkling green jade prosperity symbols over the restaurant doorway announced the arrival of his Sergeant.

Choy Gang's skin was the color of the Mongolian desert on a winter evening, betraying his mixed heritage. He was tall and weighed over two hundred and fifty pounds. His head was large and sat like a cantaloupe with crumpled ears on his massive shoulders. His hands were broad clubs, the knuckles scarred and bulbous.

Choy's fleshy face was marred with acne scars. His eyes were small and close set, almond-shaped, an odd golden color. A shiny blue shirt stretched taut across his massive chest and arms under a loose fitting brown jacket.

In the People's Liberation Army, Choy had found a home. In Colonel Wu, he had found a Master.

Choy cast a contemptuous glance at the elderly customer across the room. He squeezed into the booth. One of the waiters poured more tea. Wu ordered food in a rapid burst of Mandarin.

When the waiter was gone Wu said, "You had no trouble obtaining the information for Connor's accounts?"

"No, sir. He resisted at first, but it didn't take much to convince him to give me the numbers." Choy thought about how the old man had screamed when his finger had been snipped off. He smiled, showing the gaps between his yellowed teeth.

"You are sure the book was not in Connor's home?"

"Yes, sir. I am positive it was not there. His heart gave out too soon, before he revealed its location."

"That was unfortunate. But you did well. Now I have another task for you."

Wu watched Choy perk up. He's like a good dog, Wu thought. Give him something new and interesting to do and he's happy.

"The American owned a house three or four hours from here. Take some men tomorrow and search for the book. Use a vehicle from the black pool."

The black pool was a small fleet of cars untraceable to the Chinese Consulate.

Wu took an envelope from his jacket and slid it across the table to Choy. "Money and a driver's license. The directions to the place are also there."

Choy put the envelope in his jacket pocket as the waiter returned with steaming plates of food.

"Sergeant," Wu said, "enjoy this delicious dim sum. It's as good as we get at home."

Across the room, the elderly Chinese man took a last sip of his cold tea. He folded his newspaper and rose. He shuffled by the cash register to pay and carefully made his way down the steep stairs. His superiors would be pleased when they learned of the meeting he had just overheard.